The Search An Isis Adventure
by Eilidh17
Summary: Kidfic: Isis has gone missing and the search is on.


**The Search  
**

**  
**Isis is missing.

Now, I should be overjoyed, rapturous, positively punching the air with jubilation, alas… I'm not. I had considered celebrating the occasion by scanning the website's of the local animal shelters in search of the perfect cat chasing pooch in case Carter should feel the need to replace Mikta. A shot-gun would have been my preferred weapon of choice but I really hate cleaning up the mess. Ever tried getting cat gut off the walls and floor?

Neither have I but I get the feeling it wouldn't be overly therapeutic.

There is Daniel to consider. Kid is distraught. Waddles here, toddles there, yells out her name among a stream of kid babble, and all the while dragging her pet bed behind him. I do feel for him. On my sympathy scale he's pinging in the high eights, early nines, but I'm not sorry the cat is gone. Neither is the furniture. I can see my lovely leather couch breathing a sigh of relief as it congratulates the coffee table for surviving her highness's almost year long physical onslaught on their well-being. They've bonded quite nicely with the tank full of guppies that suddenly no longer resemble the soon-to-be cooked lobsters at the local Chinese restaurant.

Customer: "I'd like the lobster with the yellow band around its claw."

Waiter: "A fine choice sir. I'll have the chef cook it up for you."

Lobster: "AHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Other lobsters in tank: "Phew!"

The stress those guys must go through!

"Ja?"

Uh-oh, time to do my best compassionate daddy routine. "How you going there, kiddo?"

"'sis?"

"I know, but I've looked everywhere and she's just gone. Not sure what else I can do really." I have looked. So the effort I put into the search may not rate up there with my team lost off world or the remote going missing, but I spent a good hour of my life checking all the likely nooks and crannies. I do have guilt though.

Not much.

Hardly rates a mention but I figure saying something, even to myself, counts as a moment of catharsis. Ya see, I left the side door open. Only a fraction, barely room for a mouse to squeeze through let alone a cat, but obviously it was enough. After a particularly explosive diaper from Daniel, I had to air the place out. It was bad. Truly nose-blowingly bad. Ever smell something so bad that you start to retch? That bad! The sort of diaper that called for going MOP 2 for and yelling for a hazmat team to deal with.

Somewhere between widening the hole in the ozone layer with several cans of vanilla delight air freshener and dumping the diaper in the trash, Isis slipped out the door and into the night. I clearly wasn't paying attention to her comings and goings during this stinky episode. And truly… why would I? Diaper changed, bio-hazard dealt with – aside from the aromatic fall-out – I was too busy opening windows and gasping for fresh air.

Didn't bother Daniel a bit. The old adage of "Fox smells his own" has never been more true.

In all the hubbub, eschewing bath, bedtime story, collapsing in front of the hockey with a cold beer, and congratulating myself on not tossing my cookies in front of the kid, I hadn't give the cat a thought.

Morning dawned, Daniel greeted me with his night-time diaper hanging heavily between his legs – he'd had a productive night – and it was then that we noticed that Mikta wasn't there clawing her way up my legs to be fed.

Me? I couldn't have cared less.

Daniel? He went into "kitty, kitty" overload. Kid shouted loud enough that every cat in the neighborhood answered the cry. Why is it we give our animals names and yet the moment you say "kitty" they all respond? Instinct? Please, I do not want to hear that these critters are intelligent. Fine example here: Remember Schrödinger? Cat was still trying to walk through walls when the Tollan sent him back!

Where was I?

Oh, yes… we looked. No Isis.

Daniel turned on the tears and I tried to console him with waffles and ice-cream.

Hey! I tried! After ringing the local vets and several animal shelters, what else was I supposed to do?

Daniel is looking at me through tear-filled eyes. It breaks my heart seeing him upset like this. I sever the vice-like grip he has on the cat's bed and toss it aside as I lift him up into my arms. Head against my shoulder, he hiccups around the thumb lodged solidly in his mouth.

"We'll find her," I promise.

To be continued in… And the Rescue


End file.
